Unwritten
by Tsuna 4 Cn4s
Summary: A tactician with hidden memories of both past and future; a prince armed with frustration and anger; their roads were destined to be hard, but the addition of two young heroes might make things impossible. Retelling of Fire Emblem: Awakening. Not a self-insert.
1. Corridors of Memory

**Author's Note: I have so much I could say about this story. This fanfiction is - and might ever be - my absolute favorite; the plot, the characters, the silly side adventures... It will all draw together to create one of the best _Fire Emblem: Awakening_ fanfics, I pray.**

** ...Okay, enough gushing. But before you read, I must give a massive thank-you to my fellow author, _Xanedis,_ penner of the amazing fanfiction _Everlasting Bonds: Wings of Despair,_ for his reading and rereading of this and the following chapters. Without his help, I could not now present you with this:**

**Fire Emblem: **

**Unwritten**

**I. Corridors of Memory**

Robin wandered breathlessly through another white corridor, identical to the past ten or fifteen she had just seen. The cold fear of getting lost in the unknown maze was a heavy weight upon her mind. Her eyes combed the room for differences or some type of clue to bring relief to her worries, but she could find nothing.

_Perhaps there is a notch in one of the walls? No... Maybe some of the paint has been chipped away somewhere. No... I see nothing like that. Hey, this wall seems shorter than the last! ... I really am digging for clues now, sigh..._

It was some time before Robin realized that the picture frames were unique.

Each room held similar looking frames of shining blue light, hanging not on the walls, but floating in the air. At a quick glance, one would think they were no different than the ones around or before them. But when Robin took the time to inspect them, she noticed that there was no specific spot where they hung. And when she stopped to examine the pictures, they were never the same two.

_"Pictures" is not quite the right word,_ the young woman mused silently. _But what are they, then?_

While many of the frames held simple, extremely life-like portraits of people or places and such, there were a few that were... different. Robin had gasped in surprise when one of the pictures she had had been looking at began to change. Not slowly or suddenly, but naturally, as if she were walking and her eyes were moving over a landscape. The scene would run for some time, then peter out and the entire frame would disappear.

Room after room, Robin watched more and more frames disappear. She felt ill, knowing full well that what she witnessed could not be - in any way - normal. Something was happening and it scared her far more than she could understand why. She just wanted to find a way out of the strange world, though she couldn't even remember how she had come to be there at all.

Eventually, she had to pause and catch her breath. Robin slid weakly to her knees, just a few inches below another moving picture. Having nothing else to look at, her eyes settled on the screen.

It showed a little girl sitting on some rocks near a campfire. The dim light made it difficult for Robin to see, but she thought she could make out a background of thick woods and the distant shine of the moon. The little girl held something in her hands and was squinting to see it, unknowingly mirroring the exact face of concentration of her observer. After a few moments, Robin realized that the girl was trying to read from a book.

_ "Robin, put that away, now. You can see nothing in this moonlight."_ A voice from somewhere off screen chided the little girl gently.

_ "But Mother!"_ The child perked her head up, frowning. _"I'm almost at the end of this chapter!"_

_ "I understand, love, but it is getting very late. You know we must move early, tomorrow, lest the desert sun gets to be too hot."_

_ "I don't see a desert around here."_ Little Robin grumbled softly. The voice said nothing. With a heavy sigh, the girl closed her book and grabbed a blanket from a nearby pile. She wrapped it tightly around herself and lay down close to the roaring campfire. In a few moments, she was asleep.

The image went dim and swiftly faded. Then, with an inaudible crash, the frame shattered into small pieces of shimmering light.

Robin shrieked and tumbled backwards in surprise. She stared in confusion at the disappearing shards that now littered the floor. _Why... are they doing that?_ she wondered. The previous frames had only vanished, but this frame had broken.

"Is there a difference? Is... Is something changing?"

Her questions echoed off the walls and floor, fading into nothingness without any answers. Robin hurriedly got to her feet and rushed through the long, white rooms, her heart racing and her mind in a state of panic. She had no idea where she was running to, nor even why the broken frame concerned her. A growing sense of urgency began to eat at her chest, adding to the sharp pain of fear that already lodged there.

She reached a new room, just in time to catch a faint picture of a slightly older looking Robin shoot a fireball at a crude target, before it vanished as well. Something behind Robin cracked loudly, causing her to again cry out in surprise. She spun around and saw another broken picture frame split into a million pieces and fade. She didn't even have the chance to see what the picture was of and, this time, the crash was plainly heard.

Again, Robin flew through the rooms, dodging frames and holding her ears to block out the screeches as several more shattered. Room after room, all identical, all with frames either vanishing or being destroyed by some unknown force. Her heart was sinking into despair and her vision became clouded. But a soft voice urged her on.

_ "Please, love! You must not give in!"_

It was so soft, so gentle, so loving. _So familiar..._ Robin wanted to stop; she wanted nothing more than to stand still and simply listen to the beautiful voice and try to recall who it belonged to. She knew she had heard it before, but where? As the question surfaced, a dull ache began to pound in the back of her head. But the voice continued to press her on and begged her to keep going.

_ "Come on, Robin! Stop laying around, already, and get on with it!"_

By now, the woman should have been beyond being surprised. Yet this new message shocked her more than she knew how to express. The voice had been different than the first, but still left her with a sense of familiarity and warmth.

"I'll go on," Robin said out loud, looking up at the high vaulted ceiling, as if the people who spoke to her were hiding somewhere beyond. "As long as there are answers waiting for me at the end." She obediently put away her questions and pressed on, though she could feel herself rapidly tiring.

More rooms flashed by, each with more frames that were swiftly blinking out of existence. Her legs ached terribly and her whole body felt as heavy as lead. She would have curled up in a miserable ball on the floor and simply cried her eyes out, if it hadn't been for the voices.

_ "Robin, come on!"_

_ "Are you seriously going to give in?"_

_ "Please, Robin! For us! Do it for us!"_

"Oh shut up!" Robin screeched, shaking her head. "Just shut-" she stopped abruptly.

She was in another room, exactly like those that had come before, except there was no doorway. She had reached a dead end.

Robin slowly circled the room, not sure if she should laugh or cry. At the moment, she felt like doing both.

** "Oh? You still here?" ** A sudden voice asked. Robin turned around to find a figure standing a few feet away. It seemed to be looking at her, though she couldn't be sure, as the person's face was hidden in the shadows of a thick hood.

For a moment, Robin wondered if this was the owner of the gentle voice from before, but she quickly shot the idea down. That person had sounded so kind and caring; the tone of this figure was bored and gravelly.

** "What? Do you not know what is happening?"** The cloaked figure asked impatiently.

Robin shook her head slowly. "N-no. I don't understand."

** "Heh. Well, it matters not. Everything shall be made clear, once we are one."**

"O-one?"

**"Enough talk!"** The figure moved the cloak aside, revealing a long, silver blade lying unsheathed in his belt. He drew it and pointed it at Robin. **"Kneel, pup, or die!" **The stranger charged Robin.

She screamed in surprise and dropped to the floor, narrowly missing the sword thrust aimed at her neck. She rolled sideways and jumped up, taking a few steps away from her unexpected opponent. Her breath was already heavy and body still exhausted.

_"Keeping fighting, love. Do not... give in..."_

_That voice again!_ A new courage slowly gathered itself inside of Robin and filled her with energy. Her legs slid effortlessly into a proper stance, one that gave her body balance and made escape easy if she needed to run. Mirroring the previous movements of her assailant, she reached inside her own cloak and drew a heavy book, worn with age and rough use. Robin's eyes flitted across the cover, noticing the words "Thunder" printed neatly in swirling, black lettering.

The figure, after having missed Robin, had crashed into the nearly invisible white walls. He quickly recovered, clearing his dizziness with a vicious shake of his head. Now he turned and stood, seemingly watching Robin, waiting for her to make the first move. The young woman complied.

_"Thunder!"_ A boring enough battlecry, but it seemed to work for the book. Energy coursed through Robin's veins and sped lightning quick to her hand. A ball of tangible electricity grew in her gloved palm and she sent it shooting straight into the cloaked face.

** "Aaah!"** The figure screeched as the magic hit its mark. He fell backwards and clutched at his hood. The shadows receded just enough for Robin to see his snarling mouth. A sinking sense of dread washed over her as she realized that her weak spell had done little more than enrage her attacker.

** "You fool!" ** The figure took a step towards Robin, sputtering out curses at the terrified woman. **"Trash! ...Dog! One who is not even worthy to look upon my budding power! You shall die and leave your body for Grima!"**

"No! Go away!" Robin screamed, throwing her book and clutching at her ears to block out the dreadful threats.

** "Weakling... craven! You are nothing! Nothing without the all-power of-"** A sudden crash caused the figure to trail off. "What?" The figure's voice changed suddenly, from being husky to that of a young woman's. "What is going on? What devilry-?"

Another frame cracked and shattered around them, as several more began to fade. "What? This is not supposed to happen! What are you doing?" Robin gasped as she realized the figure - who she now was certain was, in fact, a woman - was addressing her.

"N-n-nothing! I have no part in this! I don't understand why all the pictures are vanishing!"

"'All of them'? This is happening in the other rooms, as well?"

"Y-yes!"

Then something new happened. While it was very difficult for Robin to discern which frames were breaking and which were simply disappearing, she thought for sure that she could see new frames appearing to replace the old ones. They, too, had scenes playing inside of them. Through some, Robin saw again the images of a little Robin, playing or reading at a campsite. One or two showed picture Robin looking to be the exact age of real Robin herself. Other images, nightmarish pictures of a battle-torn wasteland and a ragged army of children, began to surface.

"This is not right..." The woman said grimly. **"We can not fuse, now. Your body is too weak to handle my power. I must wait until another time; but I will leave you with a gift, so that you may not forget your purpose."**

Slowly, the woman walked towards Robin, cornering her against a wall. She reached out and placed her bare left hand on Robin's own; it felt unnaturally cold on Robin's hot skin.

**"Your efforts are meaningless. All of your attempts at life will end the same!"**

"St-stop!" Robin drew her hand back quickly, but it seemed too late. Her throat closed up and her head began spinning with sudden pain. Her hand felt as if it were on fire. _Who are you? And why are you doing this to me?_

* * *

Footsteps echoed off the cool, marble floor of the spacious hall. Two figures fought their way through the shadows, one a young man with thick blue hair and a glittering sword, the other hidden within their cloak. They paused to search the room for some type of escape route, but there seemed to be no exit before the purple barrior of magic.

Suddenly, the man sighed. He turned to his companion and gave them a small, reassuring smile. "This is it; our final battle."

The figure nodded. "There is no way out of it, then. We must end this, now." Her voice was soft and feminine, weak with fear.

"Whatever happens, whatever he tries to tell you or make you do, remember you are one of us, Robin, and no 'destiny' can change that."

The woman slowly pulled down her hood, showing the man a grateful smile. "I know, Chrom. I won't forget."

"Good," Chrom turned away from Robin, glaring into the darkness ahead. "Now let's kill this dastard and be done with it!"

"For the Shepherds!"

Without another word, the two charged ahead, weapons drawn, their hearts beating wildly. Neither knew what awaited them in the shadows.

Somewhere close by, a mocking voice hissed from the blackness, _** "Why do you resist?"**_

Suddenly, the haze cleared. Robin and Chrom found themselves within a close circle of dim torch light, the magic barrior to their backs. Standing a few yards in front of them was a gorgeous throne, where a tall, regal man was seated, leering at them.

"I see you are pleased we made it, Validar." Chrom adjusted his grip on his sword. The sorcerer laughed deeply.

"Oh, I may seem a little surprised, but not at all disappointed. Though it means I will have to waste my time with you, princeling, it saves me the trouble of searching for the Puppet's dead body to perform the rites."

Chrom's face contorted with rage. "You will be stopped, Validar!"

"Ha ha! How you are so confident. Fools! You can not unwrite what is already written!"

A crackling of purple energy grew in Validar's palm, taking the shape of a large sphere. He cackled madly, throwing the deadly magic in his assailants' direction. Robin and Chrom leapt aside, the spell slamming into the ground between them, shaking its foundation. Robin tumbled to her knees, while Chrom made a dash for the sorcerer.

They met in a short, furious skirmish. Chrom swung his blade wildly, trying to at least graze his enemy, but each blow was frustratingly parried. Validar stepped back and prepared another bolt of black fire, sending it straight into Chrom's chest.

The man went flying into a stone column, a few pieces of the beam collapsing on top of him. When the debris cleared, he was struggling to stand up.

"Chrom!" Robin screamed, already preparing one of her own spells.

"Die, Hero of Naga!"

"No!" Magic - huge, powerful bursts of golden lightning and blue fire - clashed right in front of the injured prince. Harsh light filled the room, momentary erasing everything. Chrom shouted for Robin, she groping blindly for his hand.

Nails suddenly dug into Robin's shoulder, keeping her from going any further. The glow died away, allowing the room to slowly come back into focus. Colorful spots stained her vision, but she didn't need her eyes to know who had hold of her.

"You can't escape it. That's why it's called destiny." Validar hissed into her ear. "Your destiny is to fail. Why can you not accept it? How long shall you run?"

Without answering, Robin spun on her heel, raising her tome above her head. Immediately, a glittering knife caught deep in the cover, its curved blade a few inches above her eyes.

"I'm done running," she spoke through clenched teeth. "I'm prepared to end this... NOW!"

Robin used all of her strength to push the sorcerer away, jumping back just as Validar brought his sword crashing down. _"Irum Levitea!"_

A large blast of electricity, surrounded by smaller clouds of the same energy, struck Validar in the chest and face. He stumbled backwards with a gasp of pain, wispy smoke raising from his sizzling burns. Before he could react, a sword sliced him from behind.

"GAH!" A scream of agony echoed off the black marble hall, fading slowly as the sorcerer sank to his knees. His clawed hands flew wildly about him, as if they were trying to catch his fleeting life.

The world seemed to slow for a moment. Validar stumbled towards Robin, his limp body swaying dangerously. Robin watched as the last glint of consciousness faded from his dark eyes, the intense hatred in them paralizing and horrible to behold. Validar collapsed in a heap upon the bloodied floor and finally his spectral screeches were forever silenced.

Chrom slid soundlessly from the shadows, his soiled blade glowing in the faint light. Robin hardly noticed as he came around the body to stand beside her.

"I want to go home," she said.

Chrom nodded, gently helping her to turn her back on the slain villain. He gave her a weak, relieved smile, his mouth partly open as if to utter some words of congratulations, or perhaps reassurance.

"This isn't over!"

Robin watched, eyes growing wide with horror, as more magic was launched ferociously at the pair. Chrom didn't even notice. His back was turned to the blast.

With a cry, Robin pushed him out of the way and took the full brunt of the attack herself. Chrom shouted, but his voice was lost amid the confusion that covered her senses.

Moments seemed to pass. "Are you alright?" Finally, the question reached her. But Robin couldn't answer. Her vision swayed and her chest felt as if it was being crushed.

She was faintly aware of Chrom lifting her, his voice a low buzzing in her ears. His tone was gentle and reassuring, whether for his benefit or his own, Robin couldn't say.

A shadow suddenly fell over her vision. She could see nothing, could barely even hear. What little she could understand was a strange jumble of Chrom's words and a faint chanting playing in the back of her mind. She tried to concentrate on the prince, but the song was sweet and enticing, tempting her to listen and obey.

_**Begone, Naga...**_

"We can rest easy, at long last."

_**Depart, goddess of discord...**_

The chanting grew gradually louder, and a strange shape began to take form in the darkness. A long body with six wings, curved horns and glowing red eyes. _Who...?_ Robin wondered drowsily.

_**Grima... Grima... Grima... **_ Suddenly, the song was not so sweet. The air became frigid, the shadows even blacker. Robin turned to flee, but there was no where to run. Ice cold hands slithered up her being, wrapping around her limps and locking her in place. She tried to fight back, willing her arms and legs to kick, to move, but her body would not respond.

_ Chrom, run!_ She screamed, but her voice was only a faint whimper.

"What's wrong?" The young man asked. "Hey! _Hey! Wake up!"_

_Please, run!_ The cold atmosphere sank into her blood, coursing through her veins and burning her fragile body. Robin screamed, her voice different and gravelly. A short spear of black magic shot out of her palm, slicing easily through Chrom's flesh.

The man stumbled backwards, unintentionally dropping the dazed Robin to the floor. All color drained from his face, as he clutched painfully at his side. He looked at his hand as if it was a foreign object, seemingly stunned at the thick red liquid that coated it.

"NO!" Robin screeched, unable to move towards the prince. Chrom gave her one, final look, his dying blue eyes imploring.

"This is not... your fault." Chrom crumbled to the ground.

**"And so ends Prince Chrom - Ylisse's greatest! His last words a pathetic plea for his treacherous friend to live."**

Robin stared, trying to weakly reach for the still hand. The evil voice continued to cackle in the back of her mind, slowly drawing her away from the hall and dead body of her dearest friend.

The memory faded and Robin fell into unconsciousness.

* * *

**Next chapter _(Chrom, Prince of Ylisse)_ will be out in two weeks - the Saturday after next.**

** I don't expect favorites and alerts, yet, but please review; how else will I know what to keep doing and what needs work?**


	2. Chrom - Prince of Ylisse

**Author's Note: Thank you all so very much for returning for the second chapter! I want to warn you that Chrom may seem a tad out of character in this; it is intentional. Since I'm starting the storyline from the very beginning, it's a perfect opportunity for character development. I think you'll enjoy what I have planned.**

**Edit: 6/15/2014 I changed a few things, particularly Chrom's dialogue in places. Hopefully, it will now sound like a slightly more immature Chrom (more hot-temper, self-centered, ect.) rather than a different character. Thank you, _Mark-Kris Robin_ for the review!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own _Fire Emblem: Awakening._**

**Chrom, Prince of Ylisse**

Chrom groaned under the weight of the heavy wood, wincing as another spasm of pain rasped his arm muscles. He twisted his body slightly, trying to reposition his load as best he could. The movement caused a stick of bark to stab his bare shoulder, forcing the man to bite back a gasp. He shook his head to resolve it, but the sound fell back into his dry throat, catching there and sticking, despite his attempts to swallow it.

The men marching ahead of him did not notice Chrom's silent struggle. Watching them, Chrom felt almost envious of their steady stomps and unquavering muscles. They seemed to be unimpressionable superhumans, who minded neither the extreme heat nor the difficult work. Chrom could only hope - with half-hearted faith - that the soreness and pain wrecking his own body was not reflected in his appearance.

Still, he kept up with the villagers, not daring to ask for a rest. For one thing, exhaustion was a sign of weakness - a trait that Chrom was not willing to show before these powerful young men. For another, he doubted his pleas would do any good. More than likely, he'd just earn a private batch of ridicule from their accursed taskmaster.

"Is that all the muscle ye boys got? Weaklings, the lot of you! A blight upon the name of men!" The booming voice of the elder seemed to bounce back from the dirt road and pricked Chrom's ears like thorns. He was a small man, his bony frame and unstable waddle the product of many years. His voice didn't match the rest of him, being firm and husky while he mocked their fatigue, in between swigs from his water sack. Every so often, he would drip the precious liquid on his hands and run it across his face, as if to taunt the thirsty boys.

The brute had been tagging alongside their company since they began work at dawn, offering curses and cuffs in place of help. His attitude reminded Chrom of an old drill sergeant who had once been in the employment of his father - rude, abusive, sure to inspire the energy that would finish the job.

Chrom cleched his teeth as another innocent man from the company was picked out to be subjected to the master's taunts. The older man screamed and swore at the youth, aiming feeble kicks at his legs that far missed their mark, more often hitting the boy directly behind or after the target.

So far, he hadn't directly insulted Chrom; though with that sort of man, he didn't really expect to receive royal favors.

_What is wrong with this place?_ he wondered silently. As a child, his sister had told countless stories of the rural communities thickly sprinkled throughout the countryside. They were supposed to be fantastic havens, populated by a simple, peaceful people without formal education or human flaws. In the recent months, Chrom had passed through several villages, none of which resembled this fairytale description.

Chrom's hands involuntarily clenched around the log, causing him to swearing as the bark bit into his raw skin. The confusion of his questions mixed with the frustration and anger of his situation, becoming an unbearable strength that demanded to be released.

Without his permission, Chrom's emotions mustered themselves into a powerful thrust that propelled the log a few inches forward. The sudden movement startled the distracted boys marching ahead of him, loosening their already weak hold.

One of the boys in the center of the line screamed, "I'm dropping it!" Then, without a moment's hesitation, the other ten men jumped aside, followed a second later by Chrom, as the wooden trunk fell to the dirt with a booming crash. Chrom barely had time to take in the picture with wide, uncomprehending eyes before the taskmaster was among, his own jaw slack from surprise.

Then his eyes narrowed.

"What is wrong with ye idiots?" he screeched, his face livid. "You don't just drop a ton of wood like it's some commonplace lizard! Yer very legs could have been crushed under its weight, all of you! Now who did it? I want him on his knees, head in the dust while I whip his back raw!"

The taskmaster had no such weapon, so his threat was idle; yet the workers seemed to stiffen and pale. They turned their faces towards Chrom, who was shocked to see how, in an instant, they could become so normal looking, as if their god-like strength had been sapped away. He was so wrapped up in his thoughts, it took several moments for him to realize why the villagers were pointing at him. Then it clicked; he was being singled-out as the instigator for this mess.

Chrom met their disapproving gazes with a cool stare, while slowly moving to his feet. _It was a mistake,_ he told them, silently. _I would have stood up anyhow. I am not a coward who shies away from one old man; I would have stood and apologized without your "aid"._

The man regarded him through slanted eyes, which rose high as he recognized the youth. A rueful smile turned his lips. "Oh my, our fair prince is the troublemaker, eh? Suppose we were working too slow for his highness and he wanted to put us in our place? A few smashed men ought to have made a perfect example to us peasants!"

"I meant no harm!" Chrom cut him off, temper flaring at the man's mockery.

"So said those bandits af'r they burned down our houses. So said yer pa af'r he murdered a mass of Plegian royals and brought this black judgement down upon us!" The man spat at the mention of the late king. "Always blamed their bloody actions on everyone else; face it, mate, yer bred for 'accidental' killing!"

"You speak in general terms," Chrom countered, "as if every man were the same. Accuse the wrong one of such crimes and he could stop your flapping tongue - permanently."

For a moment, the two men stared at each other, sizing one another up. Chrom could feel every muscle in his body twitch and stiffen, ready to lunge at a moment's notice. Yet his mind was not as eager to give a command. Good sense rose to meet his fury, chiding him for his temper and commanding the prince to step down. Anger, though, would not so easily be tossed aside.

The two emotions fought back and forth for several seconds, one obtaining no advantage over the other. The outcome of their warfare would remain a mystery for Chrom, as just at that moment, the sweet chirp of a girl interrupted his turmoil.

"Water!" Lissa sang loudly, her twin-tails flailing as she skipped haphazardly towards the men. In either hand, she held wooden buckets, filled to the brim with cool, glorious water, the legendary peace-token for many an exhausted man. Even Chrom could feel his hot-temper sizzle and die out, quenched just by the sight of the liquid.

Lissa greeted the company, her usual mischievous grin tugging at her lips. "Hello, boys! You guys do know this isn't the construction site, right?" She nodded in the direction of the fallen log. "You better not be trying to slack off! I didn't spend the whole morning baking bread for a bunch of lazy lay-abouts!"

A chorus of indignant shouts echoed from the village boys, earning a laugh from Chrom's young sister. "Alright, alright! Then come and get your drinks already, before my arms break off!"

As soon as the invitation left Lissa's mouth, the men shot forward. They fought over the opportunity to relieve the princess of her burden, though Chrom wasn't entirely convinced it was for the sake of water. For boys like these, Lissa's pretty smile would be as refreshing as any liquid.

A scornful scoff called Chrom back to himself. He had almost forgotten about his taskmaster, who now stood trembling in surpressed anger at the desertion of his boys.

"Shut up and sit down, fools!" the man screamed. "Nobody drinks 'til I say so, and that ain't until his highness here gets on 'is knees and begs fer forgiveness."" He shoved a leathery finger against Chrom's chest.

Chrom stared at the man, reminding himself that he had to keep his cool, at least for Lissa's sake. Then a flash of red blurred his vision. Before Chrom could blink, the taskmaster was on his back in the dirt, with a tall woman bending over him. Her head was a mess of fiery curls, the color burning even brighter beside her crimson breastplate.

"S-Sully," Chrom stuttered, surprise weakening his voice. Sully didn't bother to reply. Instead, she yanked the taskmaster back to his feet by the collar of his rough shirt.

"And just who do ya think you are," she demanded, pressing close to her victim's face. "And what you the right to lay one of yer grimy fingers on the prince of Ylisse?" She rattled him fiercely, as if to shake an answer from his quavering gullet.

Chrom watched the man squeak and twist in Sully's merciless grip. He appeared even smaller, like even one more shake would cause his to tumble apart. Then Sully let go, and the elder slumped to the ground. "I don't wanna see you even looking at this guy again, do you hear me? Or next time, I'll have my lance do the talkin'." She kicked her leather boot, causing the man to scuttle out of the way. "Now get packing! You'll never rebuild your barns lounging around here, ogling the princess."

Without a moment's hesitation, the taskmaster obeyed, ordering the boys to return to their forgotten burden. With long groans of disappointment, the men slowly left Lissa's side, trickling back to their positions for carrying the wooden log. No one so much as glanced at Chrom as they left him behind, staring after them with his sister and knight at his side.

For several moments, there was uncomfortable silence. Chrom coughed, awkwardly. "Um, I'm sorry you had to do that, Sully. I could have handled-"

The woman silenced his excuse with a threatening glower. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Me? I did nothing! Why don't you ask that rogue?" He stabbed a finger in the disappearing party's direction.

"Don't give me that - I'm not blind! I saw what happened, what you almost did to the men-"

"That was an accident!" he shouted, taking a step towards the woman. "Do you truly believe I wanted to hurt anyone?"

"Chrom, I know you and I know when you're ticked off. That scowl hasn't left yer face since we arrived last week. Now are ya gonna tell us what's wrong, or do I have to beat it out of you?" Her threat was almost a hiss, frightening enough to make Chrom's skin crawl.

Already a bitter reply was forming, sharp and cutting like the blade on his sword. Yet they died on his lips, as he suddenly caught Lissa's eyes.

The laughter and gaiety were gone, replaced by a solemn, firm frown. Her brows were furrowed, as if she wanted to scream at Chrom to stop, to call him some choice names as she usually did when angry. Her eyes blinked rapidly.

For all their arguing, Chrom probably knew his sister better than anyone else. He had never known her to not have an opinion - a firm, stubborn opinion - on any subject; whether she would voice it in physical jabs or sardonic mocking, she could not keep a thought to herself.

Yet now, she had nothing to say. _Because there's nothing to say,_ Chrom thought he could hear Emmeryn's voice in his mind, low and sad. _She wasn't there, Chrom. She doesn't understand your anger and frustration. All she sees is her brother, picking fights at every turn._

The thought struck him like a blow, knocking the polluted gust of anger out of his body. His vision cleared and though his heart still raced, he knew he was again in control.

Sully retreated at the same time. The three dawdled in more accursed silence; Sully shuffled her feet, Lissa tugged at her bracelets, while Chrom simply watched the sun set. Was it that late, already?

"Chrom," His sister's voice was soft and dull, yet sudden enough to startle him. "Put a shirt on."

Chrom looked down at his person, surprised to see bare skin. He had taken it off to work, but forgotten it in the lumber yard. It was such a strange request, so simple a question after their argument, that he burst out laughing.

"C-Chrom?" Lissa exclaimed, taking a step away from her brother.

"He's finally cracked!" Sully shouted. Chrom didn't take notice of either of them as he fell on his heels, howling hysterically. Perhaps he was more exhausted than he had imagined.

Another's giggle met his own laughter. The titter grew louder and louder, until Lissa suddenly dropped beside him in the grass, shrieks of mirth ringing from her open mouth.

Chrom heard Sully mutter a curse under her breath. He could only imagine her face as she watched the two siblings go seemingly mad before her eyes.

"Royals," Sully breathed heavily, beginning to march away. "Yer both nuts. Good night."

Time passed. The last rays of the sun were peeking over the mountain ridge, shining their gentle orange light over the man and girl, laying half-asleep in the grass. Stealthily, another figure approached, stopping suddenly when he noticed their slumber. He cleared his throat loud enough to wake Chrom, who regarded the tall man through drooping eyelids.

"Frederick," he yawned.

"Good evening, Milord. I apologize for interrupting your... Work?" Frederick's critical gaze swept the empty land. "What happened to the other men?"

Lissa looked about too, her lips curving into an impish grin. "I guess they left us behind while we were laughing."

"Laughing?" He tasted the word as if it were foreign.

Chrom smiled sheepishly. "Yes, I'm afraid we got a bit carried away and neglected our tasks."

"I doubt they minded," Lissa quipped, nudging her brother. He could hear her silent message ringing through his head: _ Tell me what's wrooong!_

Frederick merely nodded. "Well, I surely hope you shall be in as good a humor, tomorrow."

"Why, what's tomorrow?" the princess asked.

"We are leaving for Ylisstol first thing in the morning. Do you not recall? We arranged it a few days ago. Unless you would prefer to delay our departure-"

"Oh, please let's leave tomorrow!" Lissa jumped to her feet, grabbing Frederick's hand to plead with him. "I'm so homesick for the other Shepherds and Emm. I wanna go home!"

"Milord?" The knight turned to Chrom. "Are your sentiments the same?"

The prince didn't answer immediately. His eyes drifted southward, in the direction of the long departed company of men and the vicious taskmaster whose words - though rude and biased - held some inkling of truth.

In the far distance, Chrom could imagine the construction site, a cul-se-sac of charred ruins. And standing bright and conspicuous against the dreadful backdrop were the beginnings of several new barns and warehouses, with carpenters weaving in and out of their bony frames.

He was supposed to be helping that restoration, wasn't he? Isn't that what Emmeryn had sent him for?

Finally, he sighed. "Yes, Frederick. Let's go home."

* * *

Chrom's party was awake and ready to leave before dawn, but were detained at the village gate. It seemed most of the village's population had risen to see them off, as both young and old surged forward to be the first to wish their heroes a safe journey. Chrom received the usual stiff thank-yous due to royalty - a bow here, a kiss on the hand there. Most of his well-wishers were young maidens, who were more interested in flattery and flaunting their long lashes than showing their gratitude for the prince's aid. As the crowd around him became increasingly thicker, Chrom shivered to think how closely it resembled a pack of wolves circling their prey.

On the outside, though, he appeared the cool and collected noble. He accepted each gesture with a quiet nod and a charming smile, not letting any sign of his discomfort or boredom slip. He carefully divided his attention between his flashy admirers and the crowd of more honest peasants, who had thrown themselves at Frederick's feet.

Chrom watched in silent amusement as his knight was lavished with the heavy praises of the wise elders and slathered with the dry kisses of old women. He caught snippets of their conversation, hearing of how the ever-active Frederick had rethatched someone's roof, chopped enough firewood to last through three winters, and apparently built an entire barn with nothing but an axe and a few twigs. Knowing Frederick, Chrom wasn't sure which accounts were exaggerated and which were not.

His thoughts were interrupted by a tug on his arm. One of the women was asking him something. Chrom had to remind himself to stay civil, though he was sure a sigh had escaped his lips by mistake. Whether the girl noticed or not, however, he couldn't be sure, as at that moment the girl's parents were dragging her away from the crowd of jackals, harshly reprimanding her for touching royalty.

For a moment, the excitement about Chrom waned, and he was able to look about once again. He caught sight of Lissa standing a few feet from him, Sully protectively by her side as all the village youngsters made a close ring around her, offering her rumbled flowers and childish tears. Their elder brothers dotted the group, apologizing up and down and wishing their princess the safest of journeys, while Sully stood by and looked ill.

Lissa's smile was a wonderful sight. She seemed to be radiating happiness, as she patted each child's head and laid a gentle kiss on their damp cheeks. The warmth of pride suddenly rose in Chrom's chest as his gaze met that of his younger sister.

_Emm would be proud to see her handle herself so well with these people,_ he reflected. _It's almost as if she were here right now, instead of being stuck in that castle back in Ylisstol._ Chrom's thoughts trailed as an abrupt motion caught his attention.

Standing a few yards back, a shadowy figure lounged under a dead tree. It took a moment to recognize him, but Chrom was sure it was his taskmaster from yesterday. His suspicions were confirmed when the man spat upon meeting the prince's eyes.

Chrom turned quickly away, trying to batter down his ever-quick temper. He prayed no one had seen, but one look at Lissa's suddenly subdued face told him otherwise.

He debated whether to say something, when Frederick beat him to it. "Your affection and praise is most appreciated, but we must be on our way. It would not do to dally any longer, lest the Exalt begin to worry for her brother and sister's safety."

Brown waves rippled across the crowd of peasants, as each man and woman eagerly nodded their heads in agreement. Everyone made way as the innkeeper and his boy brought over their party's four horses, adding their own voices to the cheers of gratitude as Frederick handed them a rather substantial tip.

Chrom was relieved when they were finally on their way. For the first hour, they led their horses and traveled the softer roads on foot. Once they grew tired of their slow pace, they mounted their steeds and spent the remaining morning hours riding across the rough, rocky plains.

Frederick headed the party on his noble war horse, Wizard, named for his gray mane rather than his age. Chrom and Lissa flanked either side, the prince riding his favorite horse - a golden male named Khryso - while Lissa rode an old, gentle mare, whom she had dubbed "Petal" long ago. Sully covered their rear, seated straight atop Butcher, her black devil-steed who certainly deserved his name. Chrom felt slightly ill at ease about having to turn his exposed back to the creature.

By early afternoon, their company had covered several miles and were only a few hours' ride away from Ylisstol, their prime destination. Not wanting to overwork their only way of transportation, they stopped in a grassy field, letting the horses graze while they rested their sore backs.

"Ugh, I hate riding..." Lissa whined, groaning in pain as she tried to ease her posture straight again. Her spine creaked in sharp protest.

Sully threw her lance to the ground, leaping after it the next moment. "Well I'm starved! Have we got anything to eat?"

Frederick immediately began routing through his saddle bags, while Chrom and Lissa turned to their own. The princess pulled out various bits and bobs, though nothing that could be considered editable, even under the most desperate of circumstances. Chrom found nothing but an empty drawstring bag, a stained cloth, and the oil he used for cleaning his sword. He sighed and turned towards Sully, who hadn't left her resting place on the grass.

_Don't worry; I've got it._ he muttered to himself. Chrom found Butcher grazing a few feet away and took several cautious steps towards it. The horse's cold eyes seemed to glare at him through its even darker mane. Its nostrils flared a warning, its slight hoofs patted the ground. _There's something beautifully wicked about this horse,_ Chrom realized. _Something that demands respect and obedience - what a horrible quality to have in an animal._

"Don't even try it, Chrom," Sully said, monotonously. "He can chew your head off with one bite."

Chrom flinched at the thought. "Well, I wouldn't have to if you would take care to check your own saddle bags."

Sully snorted. "I know what I've got and what I don't; I can tell ya that food ain't in that first category."

Frederick was watching Chrom now, his hawk-like gaze settled firmly on the prince and beast. The knight seemed on-edge, ready to spring the moment his lord was in trouble. Even so, his voice was calm as he said, "Excluding three vulinaries, a pair of socks, and milord's sweater, my bags are empty as well."

Lissa asked, "What about that bread and cheese the inn keeper gave us?"

Sully sat upright. "That was for today?"

Frederick and Lissa glared at her. Chrom resisted the urge to smirk. _So clueless... Has this woman grown up in the least?_

"Should I even ask where our _only_ food is now?" Lissa wondered, her glower threatening.

Sully lowered her head in a rare gesture of repentance. "...Resting with the stew I ate for dinner last night..." she mumbled. With a bit more fire, she added, "They don't serve dessert in rural communities! How am I supposed ta break my back working without a full belly?"

_She hasn't changed at all!_ "We have at least five hours worth of riding until we reach Ylisstol!" Chrom shouted. "How are we supposed to travel on empty stomachs?"

"We're gonna die of starvation!" Lissa exclaimed dramatically, falling with a faint sigh onto the grass.

Frederick cleared his throat. "That is hardly likely, milady. Five hours is not an impossible journey, though if you would prefer, we could stop in town and purchase a meal."

Lissa perked up immediately, hopeful once more. "Have we any money left?" she asked.

There was an awkward moment of silence. Frederick smiled sheepishly. "Oh yes, I quite forgot; while helping to rebuild a village is all well and good, it does leave one short of funds."

"Whaaaat?" the princess nearly cried. "Nothing? Not a cent? Not even enough for a crumb of crème bûlée? How about some Chocolate Soufflé? FRUIT Soufflé?!"

"Alright! Alright!" Sully interrupted, grumbling as she rose slowly to her feet. "I'll go and get ya some grub. You guys stay here and rest as long as you like, while I go and do a man's job and shoot down a deer or something."

The woman grabbed her lance and began fiddling with her horse's saddle. Chrom shook his head. "As the one who ate the food, you should also be the one to replace it. Though it isn't safe to go hunting alone. I can-"

Sully held up her hand. "Ah! No way are you coming with me, Captain."

"Why not?" Chrom hoped his response didn't sound as whiny as he thought it did.

"For one thing, Frederick won't let ya out of his sight. And for another- well, you ain't exactly 'subtle'. If something were to avoid yer trap, you'd probably try to make the kill by stabbing at it with some sharp oaths." Sully scoffed.

Frederick gave the woman a disapproving look, but only asked, "How long will you be gone?"

"An hour at the most; go on ahead, if you want. Three of ya can't travel as fast as one, so it'll be easy to overtake you on Butcher. Come on, Bub." She clipped the horse's ears fondly, before hopping onto its back.

She sheathed her lance and tied it to the saddle. Then Sully turned in the saddle to give them a short wave. "See ya!"

With a flick of the reins, the horse and rider were gone in a cloud of dust.


	3. Strangers in a Field

**Author's Note: Sorry for the delayed update. This chapter went out of its way to be extremely difficult.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own _Fire Emblem: Awakening._**

* * *

**Strangers in a Field**

Sully was gone; Chrom, Lissa, and Frederick continued to rest for an hour. They sat in the grass, conversing quietly while the sun sauntered across the sky. It was terribly boring; with nothing to occupy their interest, their minds were left to dwell on their growing hunger. Lissa didn't even mention the prospect of eating fresh, fireside-cooked meat, which quite honestly surprised Chrom. Perhaps she was too hungry to be picky, or had yet to realize that Sully was not going to return with neat trays full of dates, fish, and silver forks.

Lissa broke the silence with a heavy sigh. "What do you think is taking her so long?"

Chrom snapped out of his musings, and turned towards the forest. "I'm not sure," he admitted, "but I doubt it takes this long to catch a few squirrels."

"I wouldn't worry, milord," Frederick said. "Knowing Sully, she won't return until she has caught something worth boasting about - a difficult feat, considering she is armed with but a lance."

"'And isn't a very subtle hunter,'" Chrom added, huffing.

Frederick nodded. "Quite. I would suggest we..." he trailed off.

"What's wrong?" Chrom followed the knight's gaze to Lissa's mare, Petal. "Frederick, do you hear something?"

"...No," he answered, getting to his feet, "but it does seem as if milady's horse has found something." He walked over to the horse and tugged an object from its mouth. He returned a few moments later with a sopping wet, partially eaten, boot.

Lissa wrinkled her nose. "Ew, Frederick! How can you stand to hold that thing?"

"Strange - it's very strange." the knight muttered under his breath.

"I hardly see what's so fascinating about a boot," Chrom said, his lips curling in a smile. "I would be more interested in finding the unfortunate owner of the shoe. A grumpy man, for sure - and a large one." His blue eyes widened as he noticed the sheer size of the sole. A good two inches larger than his own.

"That's what's troubling, milord," Frederick said. "I only had my eyes off the mare for a few minutes; it's impossible that she could have gone to town, stolen a shoe off a man's foot, and returned so quickly. A lone horse in a small town? T'would be a miracle she returned at all!"

"Maybe it belongs to some old shepherd?" Lissa suggested, yawning. "Anyway, I think I'll just-"

"Despite the winter season, milady, this month has been quite warm - enough so that the local shepherds would have no need for shoes. What's more, this leather is too fine for a common sheepherder."

"Well, we'll see who the owner is, soon enough." Chrom said. Both of his companions turned to stare at him. "Ah, when we return it?" He shook his head, grinning now.

Hiding the expression behind a cough, he continued, "Let's press on to town. With any luck, we'll meet Sully outside."

Lissa moaned. "Does that mean I'll have to get up?"

Frederick opened his mouth to say something, but Chrom waved it away. Ignoring his sister, the prince gathered his things. He adjusted his white cape, and re-tied his sword and sheath. Meanwhile, Frederick had lain the mysterious boot aside long enough to groom his lord and lady's steeds. Granted, without a proper tool, his work was decent at best; but Chrom was grateful for the attempt.

"Could I help you mount, milady?" Frederick offered, showing Lissa his hand.

The princess opened her mouth to speak, but Chrom interrupted, saying, "Why don't we just walk to town? It's not far, and our horses might appreciate the extra rest."

Frederick nodded, taking charge of all three horses's reins, and picking up his boot. As he filled his hands, the knight said something about the thoughtful and wise decision his lord had made - Chrom didn't bother to listen. Lissa's response, however, was less satisfied.

"This is dumb! Who cares about a stupid boot!" she grumbled loudly, crossing her arms and pouting as she trailed behind the men and their horses. "Not me, and certainly not the people who own it, 'cause if they did, they wouldn't have lost it! Besides, it's broken and we don't have any money to pay for it. What are we going to do, give him a check for the royal treasury?"

Chrom sent a glare over his shoulder. _This is going to be a long walk..._

* * *

_"Blah-blah-blah-blah-blah,"_ Lissa complained. _ "Blah-blah-blah; blahblahblahblahblahblah!"_

Chrom sighed. _If only her voice would give out!_

They couldn't have been walking for more than ten minutes, yet Chrom was already weary. Lissa's voice was like having a hummingbird shoved in his ear, and made their trek that much more exhausting.

_Exhausted; tired; beat;_ Chrom counted off the synonyms in his mind. _Worn... dumb... I'm too tired to even think of more._

The past few weeks at the village had been some of the hardest he'd ever experienced - even worse than the drills Frederick tortured the Shepherds with on the daily basis. His body had worked in ways it never had before; it was embarrassing to think he had never chopped wood until a week ago.

Now he was headed home. Of course, they had to find and apologize to the owner of the boot, but it shouldn't take them so long they wouldn't reach Ylisstol by nightfall. With each heavy step towards home, his body grew more and more sluggish. _Get me into that soft bed soon,_ it seemed to warn Chrom, _Or I'm lying down right here and going to sleep!_ He had to push himself to keep walking.

_I've got to keep my mind off this,_ Chrom told himself, suppressing a yawn. _Think of something, anything: the Shepherds? I wonder how they fared with both Frederick and I away. And Lissa, too. Stahl isn't as competent as Lissa when breaking up fights.__ He shook his head. __Better not think of Lissa right now, or I'm liable to do something... regretful._

_New subject, then... Uh... Emm? What will she say when she sees these sunburns? She'll probably insist on taking out a staff for us._ Chrom smiled. _I always said I hated Emmeryn's mothering us; now I'm looking forward to it. It's funny how different your outlook can be after just a few weeks away from home. I suppose she'd like me to tell her that._ He knew he wouldn't, though.

"...Walking our horses like poodles instead of riding," Lissa grumbled behind her brother. "So stupid! It's just- Heeeey!" Her growls suddenly stopped, her voice taking on a lighter, playful tone. "Chrom! Frederick! I think I see the boot-man!"

Chrom followed his sister's pointed finger, but didn't see anything. Before he could ask, though, Lissa was running across the field, seemingly towards her invisible man.

"Milady!" Frederick's voice sounded strangled, the man unsure whether to yell to be heard or whisper for safety. "Please, do not run ahead! You don't know what kind of man he is!"

Lissa, several feet ahead of them now, laughed gaily. "The poor kind," she said, when both men and their horses had caught her, "because he isn't a man at all!"

Lissa knelt beside the sleeping figure of a tall, thin woman. Her face was young and pale, with long lashes settled over her closed eyes. Her hair pooled about her head, messy from sleep, blades of grass sticking out at every angle. Her clothes were simple: a short-sleeved, beige tunic and white pants tucked into leather boots. Under her head, some indigo cloth lay as a pillow.

"She's very pretty," Lissa said, looking the woman over curiously.

"And dirty," Frederick said with a scowl.

Chrom shrugged. "What strikes me," he began, "is not her appearance, but what she's wearing. For one thing, these clothes look too fine for a poor shepherd. And she's wearing two boots, neither so large as Frederick's."

Frederick coughed. "You do not mean _my_ sole, milord," he said, his tone offended. "I can assure, my own boots are not so big!"

Chrom tried not to laugh. "Of course not. Sorry, Frederick."

"So what is she, then?" Lissa asked, looking back at the stranger. "And what's she doing sleeping in the middle of nowhere?"

"A traveler?" Chrom suggest. "Or maybe a merchant on their way to town."

Frederick shook his head, scowling. "Whoever she might be, it was very foolish to sleep alone in so open a place. Has she decided Plegia is no threat?"

"Maybe she doesn't think it's dangerous," Lissa said. "No one would attack the citizens living so close to the capital, right, Chrom?"

Chrom paused before answering. "You can't always count on a villain's cowardice," he said carefully. "People should take precautions, no matter how far they are from the Pegasus Knights."

"So what should we do?" Lissa asked.

"...I guess we have to wake her."

"But milord," Frederick exclaimed, "we can not assume she herself is not an enemy."

"Even if she were, Federick," Chrom said, stepping towards the woman, "we have her outnumbered. What could one drowsy brigand do against three-"

Something hard smacked the back of Chrom's head.

Chrom stumbled forward and the hit the ground. Lissa screamed something, but he was too dazed to understand her words. Then there was another thwack and someone fell with a moan beside him.

Chrom tried to turn his head, but the effort sent a blast of pain rocking his temple. He squeezed his eyes shut, but the pain wouldn't ease. There was a sudden sinking feeling, and Chrom fell into sleep.

* * *

Something cold touched Chrom's head. It was like a gentle wave, the brunt of its frigid power centered on the back of his skull, growing increasingly softer as it flowed outward, across the rest of his body.

Chrom opened his eyes and turned his head, pleased when the only discomfort was a short pain behind his eyes. He was lying on his back, with his head in Lissa's lap. Her blond hair pricked his forehead, while her face blocked everything but the blue sky from view.

Lissa caught his gaze and smiled. "Oh good, you're awake! I was afraid we'd have to carry you back to Ylisstol."

"Did I... pass out?" Chrom asked, grimacing. "That's embarrassing."

Lissa shrugged. "If it makes you feel any better, that was a big conk you took. If you had heard that stick hitting your head... I thought your skull was shattered!" She shivered. "There was a nasty bump, but my Heal staff patched it up. You might have a concussion, though, so we'll need to watch your habits for a couple a days to make sure you're recovering."

"Can't your staff cure it?"

"I'm a level D cleric - I can't work miracles!" Lissa exclaimed, crossing her arms and pouting. Then, in a quieter voice, she asked, "How do you feel?"

"Better than before the clubbing," Chrom quipped, sitting up. _No nausea,_ he noted silently, _ that's a good sign._ "I think that five minute nap was worth the injury."

"Don't joke." Lissa complained.

"That's strange, coming from you."

Chrom looked around for a moment, before noticing Frederick standing a few yards away. The knight stood under a sickly looking tree, the only tree they had seen for miles. Their horses's reins were tied to one branch, and Frederick was digging through the saddlebags. Standing beside him was the sleeping woman - now fully conscious - holding the wrists of another stranger behind their back.

"Lissa," Chrom whispered, "what's going on?"

Lissa followed his gaze. "Well, that boy over there is the one who clubbed you. He must've snuck up while we were talking about the lady."

"That's impressive; even Frederick the Wary didn't hear him coming."

"Uh-huh! I think that's the real reason Frederick smacked him with that boot - you're getting knocked out was just an excuse."

"Ha ha. When did the woman wake up?"

"After you fell on her." Lissa giggled. "You gave her such a fright! I'm surprised her scream didn't wake you."

"Oh gods... I fell on her?" Chrom covered his eyes. "I think my headache's come back."

"Well, it certainly is a first impression she won't forget."

"Who is she, anyway?"

"There hasn't been time to find out. As soon as you fainted, Frederick started beating the boy with the boot and shouting orders. I ran to get my staff while the woman grabbed the boy. Right now, Frederick's looking for a rope to hold him."

"That seems a little unnecessary; he is just a kid."

"With enough strength to break even your hard head," Lissa reminded him. "Oh hey, Frederick's seen us!"

Chrom glanced back at Frederick, who seemed to be waving at them. The knight turned and said something to the woman. She let go of the boy and followed Frederick's beckoning hand.

Lissa helped Chrom to his feet, just in time to greet Frederick. "Milord, are you alright?" Frederick asked Chrom, bowing his head as he spoke. "I am ashamed that my incompetence has caused you to sustain any injury! I have been negligent and deserve severe punishment. I have fifteen different torture methods in mind that should inflict appropriate pain without taking my life - unless, of course, you have other-"

"Frederick, it's fine," Chrom quickly interrupted, halting the rant with a hand. "I'm okay, really. Just curious." He turned to the woman, who stood staring at her feet. "Thank you for helping us. And um... I'm really sorry for sitting on you."

The woman ducked her head lower. "Ah, that's okay. It wasn't really your fault."

"You weren't hurt?"

"Not at all."

"Good."

Lissa placed her hands on her hips, saying, "It wasn't very smart to take a nap out here, you know! It's dangerous away from town."

"O-oh," the woman said, her eyes widening, "sorry, I didn't mean to cause trouble..."

"There's no need to apologize! You just gotta be more careful, okay?" Lissa smiled. "I'm Lissa, and this is my brother, Chrom. And in case he didn't say, that bossy brunette next to you is Frederick."

Frederick frowned. "Milady, I believe 'brunette' is a term usually reserved for females. And, while I would warn you against being so free with a stranger," he paused and turned to the woman, "I must admit we owe this one a debt." He gave the woman an approving nod. "Thank you for your assistance."

Lissa's mouth fell open. "You got a thank-you from Frederick?" she exclaimed. "Wow, you must have made quiiite an impression!"

"M-milady!" Frederick stuttered. The woman laughed softly.

Chrom smiled, relaxing in the friendly atmosphere. "And your name is?"

"My name is..." The woman suddenly trailed off, an odd expression on her face. "My name... is... Chrom, my name is...?"

"Er, sorry," Chrom said quickly, "I didn't mean to be rude."

"My name," the woman repeated, staring at Chrom, "you know what it is. Will you tell me?"

Chrom stepped back, noticing the tension in the woman's face. "How can I have your name? We've only just met."

The woman's eyes narrowed. "Don't lie!" she shouted, her voice harsh and cold. "You do, you do know. Don't lie to me! Don't keep it from me!"

She took a step towards him, reaching out a hand as if to grab Chrom, but Frederick pulled her to a halt. She tried to fight him, kicking and flailing her arms wildly, but Frederick kept a firm grip on her shoulders. "Let go! Release me!" she shouted.

"Frederick, be gentle!" Lissa said, her voice weak.

"Enough, my lady!" Frederick spoke loudly, addressing the stranger. "Chrom is not your associate. He knows not your name, nor has he ever - now silence!"

The woman stopped struggling. Her eyes blinked slowly several times, before her head drooped. Her shoulders relaxed, and her breath ran unsteadily.

Chrom ran his tongue over his dry lips. "Frederick," he said, once he had found his voice, "release her."

As Frederick released his hold, the woman stood a moment, then fell to her knees, holding her head. Neither of his companions moved as Chrom knelt next to her, or spoke as he asked, "Are you alright?"

The woman slowly nodded, letting her hands fall beside her. "I'm... I'm so sorry. I don't know what...came over me. I felt so- I can't even explain it."

"There's no need to," he said. "Can you remember anything, if not your name?"

The woman shook her head. "No. I don't even know where I am."

"We're in the county of Stockfield, just a short walk from the town of Oden - does that sound familiar?"

"No... Nothing does."

Chrom glanced over his shoulder. "Any advice, Frederick?"

"Milord, if this woman _is_ from around here, than someone in town would be sure to recognize her." he said simply. Chrom nodded.

"Good, then you can come with us."

"What? Come where?" the woman asked.

"To town, of course." Chrom said, holding out his hand to help the woman up. "Frederick's right: if you're from around here, then Oden is the best place to search for help."

"You'll take me there, even after I attacked you?" the woman asked, raising her head to stare at Chrom.

"You were confused; you didn't mean any harm. Besides, whatever happened, we simply can't leave you here. We wouldn't be Shepherds, then."

"Shepherds?" the woman repeated. "You tend sheep? ...In full armor?"

"It's a dangerous job," Chrom chuckled. He paused, then snuck another glance over his shoulder. "Frederick, we may need to stop in town for another reason."

"The boot-man, milord?" Frederick guessed.

Chrom paused. "What did you call him?"

"It would seem, milord, that your assailant is the very man we were originally searching for. Ironic that I should beat him into submission with his own shoe."

"Surely that's not why he attacked us?" Chrom asked, sighing in exaggeration.

Frederick shook his head. "No, milord, I do not think so. There is something dark in the boy's manner that suggests this is deeper than a supposed theft."

"What would you suggest we do with him, then?"

"Talk to him, Milord, and find out what he is willing to tell. Then we may take him to town and have the local law enforcement deal with him."

Chrom nodded. "But what do you mean by 'dark', Frederick?"

"I do not claim to have the ability to read hearts and minds, but clearly this boy was angry about something. I wouldn't worry too much, milord; I would guess it was a mistake that he targeted you. Surely such an urchin wouldn't know your own identity!"

"Identity?" the woman asked, sounding frightened again.

"It's nothing for you to be concerned about." Chrom answered quickly, though not harshly. He comtinued, "But if it makes you uncomfortable, you don't have to journey with us. We could send a constable or even a doctor for you, once we reach town."

The woman shook her head. "No, I'd rather be with you, than run the risk of someone with less honorable character finding me. Please, Chrom."

Chrom nodded. "Like I said, we won't just leave you here."

Lissa let out a heavy sigh, apparently relieved. "Now that we got that settled, can we go? In all the excitement, I think we forgot how hungry I am!"

Chrom rolled his eyes. "Forgive us for losing sight of the important things."

"Eating IS important! Especially for me; you know how testy I get when I'm hungry!"

"The difference in your character is truly astounding."

The four of them went back to the tree, where the horses and prisoner waited, the latter with obviously less patience. He was held to the tree trunk with a blue sweater - Chrom guessed Frederick couldn't find any rope and used the next best thing - and there was a wet stain on the front, where the boy must have tried to loosen his bonds with his teeth.

He was short - at least an inch below Lissa. His hair was thick and blond, with one long bang falling between his brown eyes. His face was bruised and dirty, as were his clothes; his body was slumped to one side, as if he couldn't sit up straight. He wore a dark tunic, and tights of the same shade, which didn't tell Chrom much about his background; it was a common outfit for the peasantry, but he knew it also existed - in finer form - as a uniform under a knight's heavy armor. _I can't tell by eye what kind of materials his are made of,_ Chrom thought, _but perhaps Frederick knows?_

The boy glowered at them as they approached. "Damn, you're alive." he said to Chrom.

"Yes, thank you."

"Too bad, but doesn't surprise me. Though I did hit you with every bit of strength I had left - it wasn't much, I know. That's why your guard dog was able to restrain me so easily."

"...Okay," Chrom said. The boy continued to glare at him. "If it makes you feel any better, it hurt like hell."

"Where's my sister?" he demanded.

"Who?"

"Don't play games. I want her, the blond girl you and your disgusting band of villains dragged away from me. I want her now!"

"You've got it wrong, friend," Chrom said, "we've kidnapped no one."

"Liars!" the boy screamed. "Why else would that woman be with you now?"

Chrom turned to the woman, who jumped nervously and shook her head. He looked back at the boy. "Do you know her?"

He glanced at the woman, quickly turning away. "No," the boy said coldly, "I do not know her."

"Then why-"

"Because I saw you circling her while she slept! I thought you planned to bind her, just like you did Elenar."

"Your sister?" Lissa guessed.

The boy nodded, slowly. "Yes, my sister. The only person I had left, and you took her. I've lost too much to give her up so easily-!"

Lissa came forward and put a hand on his arm. "Wait, you're bleeding." She pointed at his neck, which had a shallow cut running just under his chin and dripped small drops of blood on his bonds.

She took her staff, which she had been holding, and touched the spot. The boy whinced. "Relax, I just want to close it for you. It would work better if I cleaned it first, than patched it up, but I haven't the proper materials. I really oughta start packing medical supplies when I go out; they never fail to come in handy. There we go!"

The cut skin stitched itself back together, leaving a purple mark which would only be visible when the boy held his chin up. His face, which had been scraped in various places, was completely healed, letting Chrom see the light, Ylissean skin and round, ruddy cheeks.

Lissa smiled. "When you're not scowling, you could actually be called cute - in a mushy-little-brother kind of way."

The boy said nothing for a moment. "...Thank you. You aren't the men who kidnapped Elenar, are you? Heh, what idiots would nearly kill a man than heal him? I'm sorry for my anger - and for clubbing you." He bowed his head to Chrom.

"I suppose it was an accident," Chrom said, rubbing the back of his head. Frederick coughed beside him, making Chrom sigh. _I know what you're thinking, but I'm no good at holding a grudge._

"What happened?" Lissa was still speaking to the boy.

"Elenar and I were on our way to town, where a band of brigands met us at the gate."

"What?" Chrom exclaimed, his attention back on the boy. "Brigands in town?"

The boy nodded. "They surrounded us, took our money and weapons, and then Elenar. They beat me and left me on the road, saying if I didn't run now, they would stick me in one of the houses and torch it."

Lissa's eyes widened. "They're going to burn the town?" she shouted, jumping to her feet. "We have to go stop them!"

Chrom's gaze tried to run to his horse, but were caught on Frederick's frown. The knight gave a small, almost unnoticeable, shake of his head. Chrom's mind screamed at him to ignore Fredrick, to sling himself into the saddle, and gallop to the town's rescue. And yet, that look held him. "Wait a moment, Lissa. We have to hear everything before charging into a fight."

Lissa stared at Chrom, her mouth open. "What?"

"This boy knows the enemy's location, numbers, and weaponry - how stupid would it be to walk away from that information?"

Lissa crowed her arms, growling, "Why now, of all times, do you choose to think!"

"I'm being serious - don't get used to it." Chrom turned to the boy. "Tell us what happened, but quickly."

"There were seven brigands, six men and one woman. Four of the men were dressed pretty shoddy, with more knives than rags on their bodies, but the other man and woman wore real iron armor, with good quality swords."

"What kind of armor?"

"That of a ground unit, most likely a swordsman or something."

"You'd be dead if they confronted you head-on, so what happened?"

"They were more interested in giving orders than actually fighting. The ruffians tried throwing knives at us, but they threw worse than drunk men. They were forced to confront us with their iron axes, but Elenar and I had swords."

"A weapon advantage."

"Right. We did well, at first. But we were two exhausted people against four greedy brigands. In the end, they disarmed us, took our possessions, and left with Elenar."

"Why take your sister?"

"Tch, why does any man kidnap a young woman?" the boy sneered.

"Have you heard enough yet?" Lissa asked, pacing between her brother and her horse. "Because I sure have! Let's get to town and kick some brigand butt already!"

"I agree," Chrom said. "Frederick, let the boy go - don't bother saving the sweater, just slice it if you must. Boy-"

"Roth," he said.

"Roth, we have an extra sword if you want to fight."

"But his injuries-" Lissa began, but Roth shook his head.

"I want to fight."

Chrom nodded. "I thought so. Uh... miss," he faltered for a moment, turning to the woman, "We can't fulfill our promise to escort you. But stay here and we'll-"

"May I come?" she asked. "I know how to fight, and I promise not to get in the way."

"Have you a weapon?" Frederick asked.

"I... I think so. Just hold on." The woman spun on her heel and ran off, saying, "Please, don't leave just yet!"

Chrom looked at Frederick. "What do you say?"

"Honestly, Milord, I am not one for having a seemingly amnesic, mad-woman as our ally. If she were to have another turn, we might become her targets in place of the brigands."

"Mad?" Roth repeated, frowning.

Lissa shook her head. "She's not crazy, just confused, like Chrom said. She acts nice enough, and if we want to save the town, we're not in a position to be picky of allies."

Chrom nodded. "Lissa's right. We'll have to take what help we can get. Roth, you can ride behind me, and Frederick, you take the woman on your horse."

"As you say, Milord."

The woman returned, short of breath, and sporting a new cloak. It was too large, covering her hands and running so long, she tripped over it every couple steps. It was a deep shade of purple, spotted with dark stains and black adornment, with a golden fringe, and a hood. In her hand, she held a tome.

"You're a mage!" Chrom exclaimed, staring at the book.

She laughed nervously. "It would seem so."

"Um, you do remember how to fight, right?" Lissa asked.

"I... think so." the woman said slowly. "It should just click when we're in battle, right?"

Chrom and Lissa exchanged glances, as Roth and Frederick did the same. "Can I ask you a favor?" Chrom said. "Give us a heads-up before you try anything."

* * *

** Ending Note: Thank you for reading! And sorry, again, for the late update. Next chapter - _On the Verge of History_ (working title?) - will hopefully be up in two-weeks time. I hope you enjoyed!**


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